


War and Peace

by MadameCissy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameCissy/pseuds/MadameCissy
Summary: One year after the war has ended, Hermione struggles with the traumatic events at Malfoy Manor and in an act of desperation turns to the only person who can help her; Narcissa Malfoy. Forming an unlikely bond, they begin to explore the past that has scarred them both in different ways. [Hermione/Narcissa]





	1. Chapter 1

_The two most powerful warriors_  
_Are patience and time  
\- Leo Tolstoy_

__

War left scars.

At first glance it seemed as if the world had returned to normal. The days of big three page articles in the Daily Prophet describing painful and gruesome details were over. These days the articles were smaller and only appeared after page five or six. Gone were the detailed transcripts of Death Eater trials, of announcements of people being captured and arrested for their crimes. The 'wanted' pictures showing the faces of those the Ministry were still hoping to find had grown fewer and with the passing of the days, weeks and months, the first trials had come to an end. Cells in Azkaban prison had once again been filled up with Death Eaters.

But if you looked deeper, past the surface, one could see the scars of the war. They flickered in the eyes of those who had seen too much, echoed in the voices of those who spoke the names of lost loved ones and were etched in stone in cemeteries across the country. The scars remained in those who had been physically wounded in the war; marks left behind by wands and werewolves. Lives forever changed in a way that they would never ever quite be normal again.

The Ministry had done its best to restore order and control. Days after the death of Voldemort, the Auror office had been restored and the search for surviving Death Eaters and other associates of the Dark Lord had been started. People tried picking up their normal life. Less than a week after the final battle, the Leaky Cauldron was filled to the brim with those sharing stories of horror and survival. Night after night glasses of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey were raised to honour those who were gone. Night after night they all praised The Boy Who Lived.

Harry Potter's name was always on someone's lips. Even a year later. And with the one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts less than a week away, the Prophet had once again begun printing the story of Harry. And with him came the names of Hermione and Ron. His best friends. The Golden Trio who had fought to bring down the reign of the Dark Lord, even if it came at the terrible cost of losing their loved ones.

In her office at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione Granger put down that morning's early edition of the Daily Prophet. The front page, impossible to miss, was emblazoned with a large picture of a day she didn't like to remember much. Taken not long after sunrise in the still smouldering ruins of Hogwarts, she, Harry and Ron sat side by side, their faces bloodied and covered in dust, their eyes empty and their heart and souls still hurting. It was this moment the first arriving journalists had captured and the picture had been printed so many times since that day, it mostly left Hermione feeling numb. But not today. Not with the one year anniversary of that photo around the corner.

Hermione's eyes drifted to the window and she glanced out over the street below. The Ministry building looked inconspicuous to passing Muggles and she watched as people walked by, unware of the world that lay hidden behind these walls.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named interim Minister of Magic immediately after the war had ended and earlier this week it had been announced he would take the position permanently. Ever since the war had ended, Kingsley had focused on attempting to eradicate the prejudice about blood status and had started liaisons with other wizarding communities abroad to make sure no future dark witches or wizards would rise the way Voldemort had done. Together with Harry and Ron he had recreated the Auror office and had asked Hermione about what she wanted to contribute. Anything she wanted to do, he said, he would make happen. So here she was, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Hermione averted her eyes from the window and looked back down at the paper in front of her. She heaved a sigh as she turned to the second page and felt her heart freeze in her chest. There, in the middle of the page, she saw the face of a woman who had haunted her nightmares almost every night for over a year. The picture of Bellatrix Lestrange was printed along those of over twenty other Death Eaters, reminding the reader that all of them had escaped prosecution because they had died in the final battle. To this day, many people felt that they'd gotten off too easy without ever having to pay for their crimes.

Hermione looked at Bellatrix's picture. It wasn't the mugshot that had been printed in the paper when she first escaped Azkaban years earlier. No ragged striped jumpsuit ad dirty, stringy black manes and black, rotten teeth. This was an older picture but Hermione could still see the madness in Bellatrix's eyes. She leaned in a little, bringing her face closer, and stared. She wasn't sure what she was hoping to find. Every night when she closed her eyes she would still see Bellatrix's face.

Hermione's fingertips grazed along the inside of her arms. Underneath her black robes, Bellatrix's handwriting was still imprinted on her arm. The scars were still red raw and no potion and cream Hermione had tried could help to erase them. Most days she would use a Beauty Charm to hide them but other days she didn't. There was no point. Even if she and the rest of the world couldn't see them, everyone still knew they were there. The word Mudblood would forever be imprinted on her skin.

Hermione felt a cold chill travel down her spine the longer she looked at the picture. Some days she wished Bellatrix hadn't been killed in the fight. She'd wanted to look her in the eye in a court room, make her face what she had done, maybe even ask her why… How had she become the monster she was? There were nights where she wondered if it would somehow ease the torment of her dreams.

Almost every night she woke in the middle of the night, her chest almost crushing under the weight of Bellatrix straddling her as the sharp pain of the knife cut through her arm. She'd wake screaming, the tears still lashing down her cheeks as she pleaded with the older witch not to hurt her. She would hear Bellatrix's manic cackle in her head night after night. Some nights she would see the faint shadows in the corner of her room and for a split second she'd think Bellatrix was still there.

Hermione started at the sound of a knock on her office door and quickly shoved the newspaper into her drawer before saying, "Come in."

The door opened and Harry walked in. Hermione instinctively looked over Harry's shoulder to see if he was alone and felt a sense of relief to see that he was. She relaxed in her chair and smiled. "Hey."

Harry flashed her a smile in return. "Hi. Am I interrupting?"

"Not really," Hermione shook her head. "What can I do for you?"

Harry reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and held up an envelope. Hermione's eyes narrowed as she noticed the red wax seal on the back. She had not seen that seal since the day she turned eleven and she had received her Hogwarts letter. She looked back up at Harry. "What is it?"

"I don't know. I was wondering if you'd gotten one too."

"Not yet. The morning owl hasn't…" Hermione's sentence was cut off by the sound a sharp tapping sound against the window behind her and she looked over her shoulder. There, on the window sill, sat a large tawny owl with big yellow eyes. In its beak it had an envelope identical to the one Harry had just shown her and Hermione stood up to answer the window. The owl let her retrieve the letter and she briefly stroked its head before watching the animal fly off into the distance. After closing the window she went to sit back down.

"This isn't Minerva's normal way of communicating, is it?" Harry asked and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"She usually just sends letters or uses the Floo network if she needs to speak to me," she replied. She studied the envelope. It was addressed to her specifically and the seal was most definitely the Hogwarts seal. "What do you think it is?"

Harry shrugged and broke the seal on his envelope. "Only one way to find out."

Hermione waited as Harry pulled out the piece of parchment. He unfolded it and his eyes scanned the neat, delicate handwriting that he had come to recognise as belonging to Minerva McGonagall. When he had finished reading he looked up and silently handed the letter to Hermione. A heavy feeling settled in her chest as she began to read.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_I hereby invite you to the Celebration of the Anniversary of the end of the Second Wizarding War, to be held at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on May 2nd. During this Celebration we will also take the opportunity to remember those who did not survive._

_Your presence will be much appreciated and anticipated._

_Minerva McGonagall  
Headmistress_

"I guess I should've known this was coming," Hermione said as she put the letter down. "The Prophet has been talking about some kind of Celebration for the past two weeks. I just…" She looked at Harry but couldn't read his expression.

They didn't talk much about the war. Harry had been focused on moving forward and Hermione could understand why. He had spent most of his life in the shadow of Voldemort one way or another and now that it was finally over, he wanted to live. He didn't want to be endlessly reminded being The Boy Who Lived. On the few occasions where the war had come up, Harry had always been the one to change the subject. He was happy being an Auror and he and Ginny were talking about buying a house together next summer and moving in together. He was finally living the kind of normal life Voldemort had denied him.

"Are you going to go?" Harry asked her and Hermione looked up in surprise.

"Aren't you?" she asked in surprise.

Harry studied Hermione's face for a little while, taking in the shadows around her eyes and the pale tone of her skin. "Hermione, I was talking to Molly the other day and she said that you've been having a rough time recently."

Hermione's eyes darkened. "You were talking to Molly or you were talking to Ron?"

"Well…"

"Harry, I know you said you didn't want to get in the middle of all of this and I have done my best to keep you out of it. Ron and I… It just wasn't going to work. He is in a different place than I am. He always was. But now…"

"He said you were having nightmares about Bellatrix."

"Did he also tell you he wouldn't stop touching me when I said it made me uncomfortable?" she bit back and when she saw Harry's startled expression, she didn't need to say anything else. "Yeah, I guessed as much."

Harry shifted in his seat and leaned forward a little. "Listen, I know it is none of my business but one thing I learned is that actually, it is nice to have someone to talk to sometimes." From behind his glasses his green eyes found Hermione's and he attempted to hold her gaze. "I don't pretend to know what it is she did to you, Hermione. But the things I heard that day…" He shivered at the memory of Hermione's blood curdling screams. "Have you ever…"

Hermione set her jaw and crossed her arms in front of her on the desk, covering the envelope with her right hand. The paper seemed to almost burn her skin. "No," she said sharply and her voice carried an bitterness Harry had never heard before. Tears stung behind her eyes. "You do not get to do this to me."

"Hermione…"

"This is my grief and my pain," she snapped. "And Ron certainly doesn't get to form an opinion about it."

"People are worried about you," Harry said. "Molly told me you have turned down her last three dinner invitations and Andromeda mentioned she saw you in Diagon Alley the other night and you looked, to quote her words, 'dreadful'." He cocked his head and looked at Hermione. She looked older beyond her years and he didn't know if it was the impact of the war or just who Hermione was. "You don't have to do this by yourself. At least try and find a way to deal with some of this because if you don't, it is going to destroy you."

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Hermione said sharply. She let her head fall back and stared up at the ceiling, aware that Harry was still looking at her. That he was the one to talk to her about what she felt and what she had experienced after he had closed himself off on so many occasions… She knew he meant well but at the same time she did not want to hear him lecture her. He was her friend and she loved and respected him but she wasn't ready to talk to him.

"Why don't you come to the Leaky Cauldron tonight?" Harry suggested in an attempt to change the subject. "It's Cho's birthday, remember? Everyone is going to be there. Luna is even coming back and I think she would be very happy to see you."

Hermione shot Harry a quick look. She knew the only way he was going to leave her office was if she told him she was going to be there. "I'll think about it," was the best she could do and he seemed to be satisfied with that because he stood up and headed for the door.

"I'll see you tonight then, yeah?"

"Yeah," she replied without looking up and waited until she heard the door close before opening the drawer in her desk again and pulling out the newspaper. She opened it back up on the second page and continued to stare at Bellatrix's picture for a few moments longer before picking up her wand, aiming at the paper and whispering, "Incendio."

The paper went up in flames and Hermione watched as Bellatrix's face turned into a pile of ashes on her desk.

For the remainder of the day Hermione did her best to focus on her work. She had not opened the letter sent by Minerva McGonagall and it still lay unopened on her desk when just after five thirty she locked her office door behind her and joined a group of witches and wizards getting into one of the lifts and held on to one of the ropes as they started their journey down to the Atrium.

It was busy and crowded when Hermione emerged from the lift and crossed the big, wide open space. She looked up at the ceiling like she did most days, taking a moment to remember some of the things she had seen and experienced in this part of the building, and then walked across the wide open space to one of the fireplaces connected to the Floo Network. Around her flames roared up green as witches and wizards left the Ministry and she waited for the first available fireplace to be empty before stepping into the flames. Mentally she summoned up the Fireplace for the Leaky Cauldron and closed her eyes as the flames roared and the world around her changed into her blur.

When she opened her eyes again Hermione was standing in the Leaky Cauldron. She quickly stepped out of the flames, wiped the remnants of dust and ashes off her clothes and walked across the room to the bar. She was about to order herself a Butterbeer when she heard someone call her name and turned around to find a group of people sitting at one of the tables. For a split second her mind drifted back to the day she had convinced most of these people to join her in Hogsmeade because they needed to rise up against the torment that was Dolores Umbridge. They had been teenager then and so much had changed. To see them sitting together much in the same way they had done that day felt surreal.

"Hermione, it's so good to see you," said Cho as Hermione pulled up a chair and sat down.

"It's great to see you too," Hermione answered and let her eyes drift around the table. It was like a reunion of Dumbledore's Army. Cho Chang, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, George and Ginny Weasley, Katie Bell, Luna Lovegood, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones.

In the last year they had only seen each other maybe a handful of times and this was the first time they were all together as a group. Just at that moment Harry and Ron appeared in the fireplace and the group roared to welcome them. Hermione watched quietly as Ron took a seat in between his brother and sister and Harry went to sit next to Dean and Seamus. The conversations all seemed to mix through each other until Katie suddenly said, "Did you all get a letter from McGonagall too?"

It marked the turnaround of the mood on the table and Seamus, Ginny and Luna all reached into the pocket of their clothes to pull out the envelopes they had received. Hermione's heart sank as she wondered what everyone else felt about the anniversary and her eyes drifted to Ginny, Ron and George. They had lost a brother. Everyone at this table had lost family and friends, either during or before the final battle. She wondered if anyone else felt going back to where it had all ended would open up some wounds.

"They should hold this celebration in Azkaban so we can remind those scummy Death Eaters who the real winners are," Seamus suggested. "I'd love to see their faces."

"Still as ugly as ever, I reckon," Ron chimed in.

"I wonder if the Malfoys got an invite too," Harry mused out loud and Hermione felt her stomach tighten into a knot.

The case of Lucius, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had been broadly measured out in the Daily Prophet. Proud Death Eaters complete with the Dark Mark, Lucius and Draco had been set to go to Azkaban but it was Narcissa's testimony as well as Harry's statement that Narcissa had lied to Voldemort and had therefore saved his life that had seen the Malfoys spared jail time. Instead they had become outcasts in the wizarding society and last Hermione heard, Draco had parted ways with his parents and was living in Wales. The divorce of Lucius and Narcissa following the trial had been fodder for magazines like Witch Weekly.

"If that blonde weasel shows his face, I will personally make sure that it is the last thing he ever does," Ron said, his voice dripping with venom. "Malfoy has no business being anywhere near this."

"I can't imagine McGonagall would have sent them an invite," Dean answered. He looked at George and Ginny. "Will your parents go?"

"The whole family will, I think," Ginny answered. "I'm sure Mum would really like it to honour Fred. And Lupin and Tonks. No doubt Andromeda will be there too."

Luna looked around the table with a bit of a dreamy look before saying, "This isn't much of a birthday celebration, is it?"

Realising that she was right, the conversation changed and just minutes later people were talking about the latest Quidditch game, work, parties and other day to day things. The contrast wasn't lost on Hermione. The conversation shifted from loss and death to ordinary life and it seemed so… surreal. It was just like the thoughts she'd had that morning. On the outside everything seemed normal but below the surface, none of it was.

From the other side of the table Hermione could feel Ron's eyes on her but she didn't look at him. It had been seven months since she'd told him that she wanted to end their relationship. He hadn't taken it too well at first but things seemed better these days. What she'd said to harry that morning about Ron not respecting her boundaries had sounded hard but it had been the painful truth. He didn't understand how she struggled with touch or how she didn't want him seeing the scars on her arm. He had seen her have nightmares and clearly he had talked to Harry about it since then. She'd needed someone to guide her through the torment but instead he had sulked and not listened. Realising she couldn't cope with that kind of behaviour, Hermione had ended the relationship. She wasn't ready for anyone because someone else was still inside her mind.

George bought everyone a round of Firewhiskey shots and they sang Happy Birthday for Cho three times before another round of shots. By the time Hermione got herself another Butterbeer, darkness had fallen outside and it was almost nine o'clock. Dean and Seamus had gone and Hannah and Susan were about to leave too. Hermione waved them goodbye after promising she would see them at the Celebration and then joined the table again.

"Rumour has it Kingsley is considering offering Draco a job at the Ministry," Harry said now that the group was a little smaller. There was a sharp intake of breath.

"Bollocks," Ron swore. "What on Earth could be possibly have to add?"

"Knowledge?" Hermione suggested. "Can you imagine the wealth of knowledge he must have after living in that house for all those years. He may be able to trace some of the Death Eaters that fled abroad."

"Something like that maybe," Harry said. "Kingsley didn't say it in so many words when I saw him today but I can't think of anyone else he could have been talking about."

"Once a snake always a snake," Ron growled. "I don't trust him."

"Draco was foolish but I don't think he was as rotten as his father," Luna carefully added. "During my time there…" She fell silent and Hermione saw the distant look in his eyes. "He was scared. People do strange things when they're afraid."

"Most don't get the Dark Mark branded on their arm and start torturing Muggleborns," Ron interjected. "Malfoy is an idiot."

"What do you think, Hermione?" Harry asked, fixing his eyes on the brunette sitting across the table from him.

"Like I said, I think he could add knowledge. It has been weeks since the Auror office managed to pick up a Death Eater. It could be good for you." She took a sip from her Butterbeer. "I suspect there are things Draco knows that the Ministry has no idea about." She pursed her lips. "And I think if you consider how badly he wanted to remove himself from his father, he'd give up anything to make it seem as if he has changed his life around."

"It still seems wrong Lucius didn't go to prison," Ginny interjected. "I know Narcissa did the right thing at the last moment but he never did anything good in his life. He was rotten to the core. To think he escaped punishment…" She shook her head as her mind went back to the time she had encountered Tom Riddle's diary after Lucius Malfoy had slipped it into her cauldron and it had started the series of events that led to the Chamber of Secrets being opened.

"I am convinced they know more than they ever told anyone at the Ministry," Harry agreed. "Draco, Lucius… even Narcissa. They must have a wealth of knowledge we know nothing about."

Hermione finished off her drink and said, "I'm going to head home. I have an early meeting tomorrow morning." She leaned in to quickly kiss Cho on her cheek. "Happy Birthday once again, honey." She stood up and waved goodnight before walking to the Cauldron's front door. Her fireplace at home was not connected to the Floo Network so she Apparated in and out of the city for work every day.

Closing her eyes and summoning up the narrow alleyway half a block from her building, Hermione turned on the spot and vanished into the cool London night. She reappeared a few miles south from where she had started and quickly left the alley, summoned her keys from her purse as she walked towards her building and quickly stepped inside. The kitchen light was still on, casting a faint yellow glow around the house and Hermione walked across the apartment to her bedroom, stripped off and got into the shower.

She washed her hair and used her favourite shower gel to cover her body in a fine layer of soapy bubbles. Her fingers traced the letters on her forearm as she rinsed the soap away, following each crooked letter perfectly and she closed her eyes as she tilted her head back, letting the water flow across her face and down her shoulders.

When she stepped out of the shower she wrapped herself up in a dark purple fluffy towel, used her wand to dry her hair and braided it and found a clean pair of pyjamas, pink and grey checked pants and a plain white t-shirt, in the wardrobe. She crawled into bed and rolled onto her side. The red neon letters on her alarm clock said 21.56 and she sighed as she closed her eyes. Like most nights it wouldn't take her long to fall asleep but she knew she'd wake at some point because the nightmares always came.

The clock said 02.36 when she woke with a start, heart pounding and beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. As her eyes adapted to the darkness around her, the images in her head of the raven haired witch on top of her faded into the distance. She still heard the echo of her own tormented scream die out in the silence of her bedroom and Hermione reached for her arm; the stinging pain was sharp but faded when her fingers ghosted over the scars.

She lay back down, her heart still thundering in her chest, and waited for morning to come.


	2. Chapter 2

The meeting she had that morning started at eight thirty and Hermione arrived at the Ministry just after eight o'clock. She had not opted for robes that morning and wore a black pencil skirt, matching black blazer and light pink button down shirt instead. She'd pinned her hair back into a bun in the back of her neck and had used magic to hide the dark circles underneath her eyes and to give herself a brighter glow. She clutched a cup of coffee she had picked up from the coffee shop half a block away and carried it with her to the meeting room. When she got there, she found the door unlocked but the room empty. She went inside, put her bag on a seat and carried her coffee to the nearest window.

She'd been awake since the nightmare had woken her and her body was already protesting against the lack of sleep. She had grown used to the aching feeling in her muscles and bones and the dull headache that seemed to permanently linger. The coffee she drank every morning had become a trusted part of her routine and it helped her get through the first part of the day. She had learnt to function on little sleep but every so often her body would remind her it needed more than what she had been giving it. Today was one of those days.

The meeting was supposed to last all morning and according to the memo spread by Kingsley it was about creating new legislation. It didn't specify what kind of legislation or for whom specifically, nor did it say who would be involved in the meeting and discussion. The memo merely mentioned several guests would be joining them. The last time this happened, it had involved Harry and Ron and their plans to reconfigure the way the Auror office worked. But Harry would have said something if he was involved in this so Hermione assumed it had nothing to do with them.

Her mind drifted back to the letter she had left on her desk last night. The Celebration was next weekend and the more she thought about it, the more reluctant Hermione felt. Sure, the Battle had been won but so much hurt and suffering had been caused that same night. It felt strange to come together in the place where their friends had died. Unlike Harry and Ron, Hermione had not returned to Hogwarts for any kind of visit after leaving the smouldering ruins. On the two occasions where she had met in an official capacity with the Headmistress, she had requested Minerva McGonagall came to her at the Ministry and Minerva had obliged.

Hermione looked up as the sound of voices and footsteps down the hall indicated other people were approaching and she walked away from the window. By the time she reached the table and put down her coffee, she could hear the voices more clearly and she looked up to find Kingsley enter the room followed by two wizards she didn't recognise.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," Kingsley greeted her with a smile and Hermione smiled in return.

"Good morning, Minister." She focused on the two wizards. "Gentlemen."

One of the two wizards looked up. "Good morning."

Hermione detected the hint of an Australian accent and something inside her stirred. She kept her eyes on the unknown man as she went to sit down and opened her bag to take out her parchment and a quill. She put the items down in front of her, rummaged around to find the ink and carefully opened it before dipping the quill into it. When she looked up, she found three sets of eyes on her.

"Miss Granger, these are Marcus Peterson and Bartholomew McCulley. They both work for the Ministry of Magic in Australia," Kingsley introduced the two men.

That explained the Australian accent, Hermione thought. "Welcome to London."

"Thank you," the wizard Kingsley had introduced as Peterson answered. He flicked through a few pieces of parchment before making eye contact with Kingsley. Something told Hermione that this was no ordinary meeting and she too looked at Kingsley, not missing the small nod he gave in Peterson's direction.

Peterson looked like he was maybe in his thirties with dirty blonde hair and green eyes that reminded Hermione of Harry somehow. He looked like he'd woken up just ten minutes earlier; his hair was messy and he seemed a bit disheveled but something told Hermione that appearances were deceiving with this man. She sensed strength and power even if he didn't show it.

"Miss Granger, am I correct in understanding that some time ago you used a Memory Charm to alter your parents' memories before sending them off to Australia?"

Hermione looked at Kingsley. "This meeting is not about creating new legislation, is it, Minister?"

Kingsley quietly shook his head and Hermione looked back at Peterson. She straightened her spine in an attempt to appear more confident but the mention of her parents had caused something to snap inside of her. It had been a year and she had not been able to find them. She had no idea if they were even still in Australia.

"Yes," she answered, the tremor in her voice impossible to hide. The sickening feeling in her stomach grew as she remembered the night she had pointed her wand at her parents from the living room doorway, something she had never imagined she would have to do. They had been completely unaware and right now, somewhere in this world, they were living another life, not knowing they had a daughter.

"I altered their memories so they would leave the country. I wanted to protect them. If Voldemort had known who they were, he would have captured, tortured and killed them. As it so happened, my fear was right as Yaxley, a Death Eater, did come looking for them."

"That is what the Ministry explained to us earlier this morning," McCulley answered.

Hermione looked at him. He was older than his partner. Late fifties maybe, with thinning black hair with a few strands of grey here and there. His face was round and a little flushed, like he had just ran half a mile. He wasn't just round in the face; he was round everywhere else too. His accent was thicker than that of Peterson.

"Are you aware that you are not the only one who sent their relatives to the other side of the world?"

"I hardly think that stroke of genius was reserved just for me," Hermione answered, sharper than she had intended. She looked back at Kingsley. She couldn't read his face. It was an act he had perfected, she'd come to learn that about him. Kingsley Shacklebolt didn't give anything away. "Please excuse me for being so direct but can I please ask what this about? I have been trying for almost a year to find my parents without success."

"Miss Granger, we have a task force back in Australia that is dealing with several of these cases. So far we have solved a few but in your case, we are struggling because some of the details appear… sketchy," Peterson said and Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Sketchy how?"

"You say that you gave them the names Wendell and Monica Wilkins and they relocated to an unknown location in Australia," Peterson answered. "We tracked them first to Melbourne and then more recently Perth but that is where the trail goes cold."

"Cold?" Hermione asked. "What do you mean?"

"We mean that we can't find a single trace of your partners after they left Melbourne and supposedly moved to Perth. But no one has ever heard of them there. They stayed in Melbourne for a little while but then moved on."

"When?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy. "When did they leave Melbourne?"

"The fourth of May last year," McCulley answered and Hermione's eyes darted to Kingsley. He nodded.

"Two days after the war ended. That can't be a coincidence."

"Maybe not. Maybe it is. But we are aware of your efforts to find them and we wanted to let you know that we are trying. It could be that they relocated into the country. The further you go into the outback, the harder it is to keep track of people sometimes. It's not unusual." Peterson looked at Hermione and gave her a reassuring smile. "We'll find them."

"I will personally keep you updated," Kingsley said and he stood up as the two wizards began to collect their things. "I'm sorry you have to go through this, Hermione. Especially with the anniversary coming up."

"Yeah, it's all fun and games right now," Hermione said and reached out her hand when Peterson reached out to shake hers. Her sleeve rolled back revealing the scars on her forearm and she followed his gaze and saw him look. When he looked back up at her face she could see the sadness in his eyes.

"My parents are Muggles too," he said, squeezing her hand a little longer before letting go. "Whoever did that to you…"

"Is dead," Hermione finished the sentence for him and pulled her hand away a little quicker than what would be considered appropriate. "It is nothing but a war wound now."

It was a blatant lie but it was less painful than the truth.

Kingsley let the two wizards out of the meeting room before turning around and seeing the desperate look in Hermione's eyes. "I'm sorry I asked you to come here under false pretenses but it didn't seem fair to tell you I wanted to talk about your parents."

"It's ok," Hermione replied. "You probably saved me a whole lot of anxiety so thank you, Minister. And thank you for making the effort. I know there are more pressing matters for the Ministry to be dealing with right now." She swallowed hard in an attempt to get rid of the lump in the back of her throat. She feeling she was being strangled only intensified.

"Is everything alright?" Kingsley inquired. "If you don't mind me saying, you've appeared a bit distracted recently. If there is anything I can do…"

"It's nothing. I am just having some trouble sleeping," Hermione lied and in her mind she fought to keep the echo of Bellatrix's laughter out of her mind. "I think it is probably the anniversary."

"The one coming up or the one you've just had?" Kingsley asked, pointing at Hermione's arm. "March, wasn't it?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Listen, if you want to take the day…" Kingsley suggested.

Hermione's first instinct was to reject the offer and say that she was fine but as the seconds ticked by, the longing to leave this building grew and she accepted. "Yes, I think I will," she said. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

Kingsley held the door for her as they exited the meeting room and they walked down the hallway in silence. Just as they rounded the corner, Hermione's attention was drawn to a small group of people on the other side of the corridor. Almost all had their backs turned towards her but she could see the face of one of the witches and she froze. She knew that face well. Those eyes… those eyes had watched as Bellatrix had cut the words into her arm, had tortured her within an inch of her life. Those eyes had seen every bit of horror.

Narcissa Malfoy stood surrounded by people Hermione did not know. As if she felt she was being watched se looked up and found the young witch looking at her from the other side of the hallway. Icy blue eyes found brown and it seemed as if something changed in Narcissa's demeanour when she realised who she was looking at. It seemed as if, for just a second, she wanted to smile but then her attention was drawn back to the people around her and Hermione watched as Narcissa disappeared into another room.

"What is she doing here?" she asked Kingsley. Her voice was cold.

"Narcissa Malfoy? I think this has something to do with her divorce."

Hermione had one last look at the door through which Narcissa had disappeared before following Kingsley into the lift. The doors closed and she held on tight as the golden cage began to move. She felt sick and her mind was spinning and when they reached the Atrium she forgot to say goodbye to Kingsley and walked off into the crowd.

She didn't use the Floo Network but left the Ministry through one of the other exits, stepping out into the Muggle streets of London moments later. Hermione breathed in the cool morning air and crossed the street. She walked for a couple of blocks and found her way to the nearest tube station. She made her way down what felt like endless flights of stairs, her footsteps echoing of the tiled walls, until she reached the platform and waited for the train. The carriages were still full of people on their morning commute and she couldn't find a seat but she didn't care.

She got off the train a few stations down the line, made her way back to the surface and found herself standing not far from Hyde Park. It was one of her favourite places in London. Though it was never empty or quiet, she could always find a spot where she could be alone with her thoughts, read or enjoy the sunshine whilst drinking coffee. This was the place she escaped to when the walls were closing in. Even in a city was busy and lively as London, she found a place to hide and right now, Hermione felt like hiding.

She walked through the park and eventually sat down on a bench underneath a big tree. She put down her bag, rummaged around in it to look for her phone and checked it. She hardly ever used it but since she lived her life moving in and out the Wizarding and Muggle world, she'd realised she needed a phone. Dropping the phone back in her bag, Hermione sighed and for a moment, she closed her eyes.

The news from that morning about her parents bounced around in her head. What could possibly have happened that even the Australian Ministry couldn't find them? Was it really just a coincidence they had vanished two days after the war had ended? It seemed unlikely but stranger things had happened. It was in this moment Hermione regretted sending them away the most. It had been for their own protection, as well as her own, but she missed them and she wanted to have them back in her life.

The memory of her parents was interrupted by the face of Narcissa Malfoy. Seeing her had been unexpected. The last time Hermione had seen Narcissa was the day she testified in her husband's trial. She had listened as Narcissa told the story of how she had felt for Harry's heartbeat and had lied to Voldemort about him being dead. She didn't deny that she did it to protect her own son when the barrister asked her. But even the judge acknowledged that Narcissa's actions had saved Harry's life and had ultimately led to the defeat of Voldemort. Hermione had not been present on the day Lucius heard he wasn't going to prison. Harry had told her Narcissa had blanked her husband as she walked out of the court room. The next day, their divorce announcement was all over the papers.

No one in the court room had asked Narcissa about what had happened at Malfoy Manor months earlier. People knew but no one asked. Because Bellatrix was dead. There was no story left to tell. There were no answers to give, or so people thought. Hermione didn't agree. She still had questions. There were so many things she wanted to know.

Suddenly she stood up.

Making her way back to the tube station, Hermione didn't think about anything else other than the thing she wanted, needed, to achieve. She reached the platform just as the train rolled in and stepped into the carriage. It was quieter now and she sat down. The train whizzed through the dark underground tunnels of London, lights flickering occasionally in the blackened windows, and Hermione stared at the ground.

When she left the station where she got off the train she still had to walk but it was quicker than trying to get on another tube line and she knew the way. She effortlessly found her way through the streets of London before reaching the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was pretty much empty and she walked into the back and left through the back door. She tapped the stones on the brick wall with her wand and revealed the entry to Diagon Alley. Unlike the pub, Diagon Alley was teeming with life and Hermione stepped out into the cobbled alleyway.

Diagon Alley had been restored after most of the shops had been raided and destroyed by Death Eaters during the war. She shot a brief glance in the direction of Weasley's Wizard Weezes, now owned solely by George after the death of his brother, and then in the direction of Ollivander's wand shop. Seeing the shop reopened was probably one of the more emotional things after the war yet Hermione had not set foot inside.

She started walking and then turned right after a little while. The sign on the wall of the narrow alley said Knockturn Alley and Hermione looked over her shoulder before starting down the shadowy cobbled path. When she reached Borgin and Burkes, the antique store, Hermione opened the door and stepped inside.

The store was dimly lit and smelt exactly like one would an antiques store to smell; dusty and a little mouldy. Hermione let her eyes wander around the items for sale. None of them peaked her interest but she wasn't here to buy anything. She let her index finger trail over the back of an old fashioned leather chair before wiping it on her jacket when she realised it was covered in dust.

The sound of her footsteps on the creaking floorboards attracted the attention of the old witch working in the store and she appeared from behind some thick, brown velour drapes and eyed up Hermione with a suspicious look. She looked like she hadn't seen daylight for at least a week and when she spoke, Hermione noticed a distinct lisp as well as three missing teeth.

"What do you want?" the witch barked.

"Information," Hermione answered and reached into her purse. She pulled out several Galleons and placed them on the dusty counter. When the old witch went to snatch them, Hermione reacted faster and covered them with her hand. The witch's hand hovered in the air and for a moment they stared at each other in a quiet standoff but then she lowered her hand.

"You can have the money once you've told me what I need to know."

"Price goes up depending on what you want to know."

Hermione smirked. "Something tells me you don't get much business these days, judging from the state of this place. You'll take what I give you."

The witch contemplated Hermione's answer but then nodded. "Deal. Now what do you want?"

"Narcissa Malfoy."

"Do I look like I keep her hidden underneath this counter?" the witch jeered.

"I want to know where she is. I know she moved out of the Manor after the divorce. No doubt someone who keeps, shall we say, some shady company, someone like yourself, would know where the former Mrs Malfoy moved to?"

"And what's it to you?"

"I want to send her flowers," Hermione dryly answered. "What do you care?"

"She moved to some place here in the city. Don't exactly know where but it's supposed to be not far from here. Apparently she didn't like the countryside as much as her husband did. Think her family used to own a house in London."

"Grimmauld Place?" Hermione asked but realised as soon as she said it that it could not be that since the house had been passed along to Harry by Sirius.

"No. It used to belong to her old man, Cygnus. Shouldn't be too hard to find, even for someone like you," the witch answered. "Was supposed to go that crazy sister of hers but she married a Mud…" She paused and seemed to reconsider her words as she eyed up Hermione a little closer. "…a Muggleborn… so it got passed along to Narcissa after her other sister snuffed it."

"And you're sure about this?" Hermione asked.

"As sure as I know that you're the lass that got carved up by Lestrange," the witch said with a wicked smile and Hermione instinctively covered her arm with her hand. "Heard she did a real number on ya."

"You're lucky I'm not doing a number on you," Hermione replied and moved two of the Galleons towards the witch, slipping the remainder back in her bag. "What you gave me isn't worth more than that."

She turned her around, aware of her wand tucked in her sleeve, and started for the door. She was ready for the witch to try and curse her but when she reached the door and opened it, nothing happened. She looked back but found that the grizzly old witch was already gone and so was her money. Hermione scoffed, stepped out of the store and back into the darkened alley. She made her way back along the cobbled path and stepped back into Diagon Alley. Resisting the immediate urge to leave, she didn't go straight back to the Cauldron but walked until she reached Ollivander's store. She held still outside the window and looked inside.

There, behind the counter, stood the frail looking old wand maker. Between his fingers he held a wand and he inspected it against the light falling through the window. As he lowered it he became aware of Hermione watching him and his old featured lit up as his lips curled into a smile. He waved with a bony hand and, feeling her heart warm in her chest, Hermione gave a quick three finger wave in return before turning away from the window and walking back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

When she stepped inside the pub, Hermione considered going straight to the Floo Network but changed her mind when she noticed the wizard behind the bar. He was older and had taken over the pub after the war had ended. His name was Harold and he was the kind of guy that knew lots of random bits about all sorts of thing. He also didn't ask questions. Perfect thing for a bartender and Hermione decided to try her luck.

"Hey Harold," she said as she walked up to the bar.

Harold was using his wand to dry and wash glasses at the same time and looked up when he heard his name. "Miss Granger. What can I get for you?"

"I was wondering if you know where the Black family home used to be," Hermione said. "And I don't mean Sirius' Black."

"You mean Cygnus' old place?"

"Yeah." Hermione leaned in a little more.

"It's not far from here actually. Couple of blocks to the right maybe. Big old white building with those Greek pillar kind of things on the outside. Grand, just the way that old fool used to like it. Rumour has it his daughter lives there now after she got rid of Lucius."

"Thanks," Hermione answered.

She left the pub through the front door and turned right. She walked for a while, feeling the early spring sunshine on her skin, but with every step the anxiety she felt grew. Suddenly, on her left, she noticed the building Harold had described. White with Greek or Roman style pillars next to the front door and a big brass knocker shaped like a lion. A tall black iron fence surrounded the property but the gate wasn't locked. The flowerbeds in the front garden were neatly kept and the white stone flowerpots were planted full of roses.

Hermione pushed open the gate and walked up the path leading to the front door. There were two steps and then she reached the big black wooden door. For a moment she looked up at the brass knocker but then reached for it. It felt cold against her skin and when she knocked it three times against the door, it sounded dull. She had no idea if Narcissa was even back yet from the Ministry but if she wasn't, she would wait.

Hermione's heart pounded in her throat and with every passing second she became more convinced Narcissa wasn't here. She was about to turn away when she heard what sounded like a heavy bolt move on the other side and then slowly the heavy wooden door opened and Hermione looked up into Narcissa's steel blue eyes.

"We need to talk."


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione was surprised Narcissa invited her inside. The blonde witch did not actually say any words that allowed Hermione entrance into her home; she merely stepped aside without taking her eyes off Hermione and gestured into the long, somewhat dark hallway. The door closed with a heavy click behind Hermione and for a few endless seconds she stood frozen in the silent hallway. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears, her heart pounding in her chest.

Without speaking, Narcissa filed past Hermione and started walking down the corridor. Her footsteps echoed off the solid dark oak floor and Hermione let her eyes wander across the walls. The ceilings were high, she noticed, with old Victorian carvings. The walls had been painted a deep shade of burgundy many years ago. The paint had faded in places and she could see distinct marks on the wall where paintings had once been. The hands of time had touched this place, Hermione could feel it. These walls had been witness to events she could not even wrap her head around.

Narcissa waited for her in the large, tall doorway that led to a big, spacious sitting room. The oak floor continued here. With the light falling through the tall windows, Hermione could see the wood was scratched and marked after years of people having walked across its surface. A fireplace took up part of the wall across from the doorway; a small fire was eating away at a pile of logs. Here too the walls had been stripped of paintings. The same intense red colouring continued here, making Hermione feel as if the walls had been painted in a mixture of wine and blood.

Narcissa Malfoy eyed up the young witch entering her sitting room. She looked for a sense of discomfort, of fear, but found herself surprised when she did not observe any. What she saw was hesitation and the longing of someone who was searching for something, even if they did not know what that something was.

"Sit," Narcissa gestured to one of the leather couches. They were so dark they could easily be mistaken for black but as Hermione approached she could tell they were brown. Before she sat down she turned to look at Narcissa. She could feel her icy blue eyes burn into her.

"You haven't asked me why I'm here," she said, a faint hint of contempt echoing in her voice. She knew her friends would loathe her if they ever knew she was here. She wasn't entirely sure she didn't loathe herself already.

"I do not need to," Narcissa replied and she smiled a little. "You have already told me."

Hermione opened her mouth to counter Narcissa's answer when she became aware of the cold invasive feeling inside her head. Realising what was happening she focused on her thoughts and bravely lifted up her chin so she could look the older woman in the eye. From her spot on the other side of the room Narcissa nodded approvingly.

"Good. That will teach you to walk into a witch's house unguarded."

Hermione felt offended and somewhat violated. Anger coiled in the pit of her stomach as she sat down and she folded her hands in her lap before clenching her fists. She waited until Narcissa sat down as well and waited. The sound of the fire crackling in the fire place was both soothing and painful.

Narcissa was the one who severed the silence. Her voice sounded less defensive this time. "You want to talk about my sister."

"Not exactly," Hermione replied and she managed to look at Narcissa long enough to hold her gaze. There was a sense of hostility between them and neither of them seemed sure what to make of the other. She had no idea if she could even trust Lucius Malfoy's ex-wife, had no idea what she thought coming here would actually achieve.

"I want to talk about wat she did to me that day," Hermione continued and rolled up her sleeve. She could see Narcissa flinch when the blonde lay eyes on the raw, red scars on her forearm. She was the only other person to recognise Bellatrix's handwriting the way Hermione did.

"And I want to know why you stood there…" Hermione's voice cracked and angry tears suddenly stung behind her eyes. "…and did _nothing_!"

Narcissa did not take her eyes off Hermione's arm. "I do not have an answer for you, Miss Granger."

Hermione blinked in confusion. "What?"

"The answers you seek, I do not have," Narcissa continued. "I cannot answer the questions about Bellatrix the way you need me to." She averted her eyes and stared at a mark on the wall as if she was suddenly deep in thought, then shook her head. "What my sister did… not just to you but to so many other people… There are no words to describe those actions and the impact they have had."

"You watched her pin me down on the floor and carve a foul word into my arm with her dagger and you did nothing," Hermione snapped. "And you're telling me you have nothing to say to me?"

"Nothing you can understand without going a journey I do not think you will be prepared to make," Narcissa answered softly. "Miss Granger, what I am telling you is that to understand what happened that day, you have to understand Bellatrix. And no one in this world has ever been able to." Blue eyes unexpectedly found Hermione's. "Not even me."

Hermione stared at Narcissa, stunned. "So there is nothing you have to say?"

"Miss Granger, I am profoundly sorry for what happened to you that day, for the things my sister did." There was a pause. "And for the things I failed to do, like seeing what she was doing…" Narcissa sighed. "I wish there was something I could do to at least take away those hideous scars but Bellatrix's magic was always beyond my reach."

"Why?" Hermione asked.

Narcissa looked at her, confused. "Why?"

"Why did she do it?"

"Miss Granger, it was a war. Bellatrix was loyal to the Dark Lord."

"So were you. So were your husband and your son. None of you carved words into my arm. Why did she?"

"Because Bellatrix was different."

"You don't say."

"Miss Granger, I need you to understand she was not always like that."

"You mean she wasn't born a deranged psychopath? How reassuring."

Something in Narcissa's demeanour changed and it was clear she was not impressed with Hermione's defensive and sarcastic tone. She straightened up, making her seen taller, and her which had been resting in her lap, now clenched together. Something indescribable flickered behind steel blue eyes and Narcissa sized up the young witch sitting across from her.

Everyone knew who Hermione Granger was. One third of the Golden Trio. One of the three people involved in the downfall of Voldemort himself. Narcissa, however, had been aware of Hermione's existence and presence for far longer than just the war. During his first year at Hogwarts, Draco had talked about the Muggle born girl who seemed to know more than anyone else. The Muggle born girl who associated with the Potter boy and the blood traiting Weasleys. Narcissa did not actually meet Hermione face to face until just before the start of the fourth tear, at the Quidditch World Cup. The young woman sitting in front of her now was a far cry from the school girl she had seen back then.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa began, "if you come into my house you will adhere to my rules and one of those rules is that you will mind your tone when speaking of my family, understood?"

Hermione was internally seething about Narcissa's reprimand. How dare she have the nerve to scold Hermione for the way she spoke about Bellatrix considering Narcissa knew, perhaps better than anyone, what kind of monster her sister was?

"Understood," she reluctantly said. She wasn't going to apologise for what she said.

"Did you really come here because you wanted to ask me why I didn't stop her from torturing you?" Narcissa's question was so direct, it started Hermione a little and she needed a couple of seconds to gather herself.

"Yes."

She felt Narcissa's mind press against her own and Hermione focused harder to keep the blonde Malfoy woman out of her head. She never broke eye contact, holding Narcissa's gaze for the entire duration. Something in the room shifted and the flames in the fireplace suddenly roared as the magic crackled in the air. Hermione's barrier held and she felt Narcissa's pressure fade.

"If that is true then what is it you do not want me to see?" Narcissa tried. "You are keeping yourself guarded, Miss Granger."

"Some things are private."

"Your personal life was broadly measured out in both the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly," Narcissa taunted. "I doubt anything about your life is actually private." She cocked her head. "How is Mr Weasley these days?"

"About the same as your ex-husband, I suspect," Hermione venomously retorted and Narcissa blinked at the sharpness of her voice. Hermione smirked at her success, however minor. "My life isn't the only one that's been broadly measured out in the press."

She pushed herself up and started for the door. She didn't hear footsteps behind her and assumed Narcissa hadn't followed. When she reached the door and turned around, she found she was right. The older woman was still watching her from her spot on the couch, blue eyes curiously observing Hermione's every move.

"This was a mistake," Hermione answered. "I don't know why I even thought you could help me."

It happened so fast, she didn't have a chance to prepare or protect herself. Narcissa's force was strong and the little defence she had, crumbled and suddenly, her deepest, darkest thoughts were there for Narcissa to see. Hermione stood frozen in the doorway as she felt Narcissa's mind search and wander through her own, finding things she had never once spoken out loud to anyone. Cold chills crept down her spine at the violation of her thoughts but at the same time, a sense of release settled in her stomach and she closed her eyes when Narcissa finally encountered the memories of Bellatrix.

Seconds seemed to feel like hours and when Hermione opened her eyes again, Narcissa's presence in her mind was gone. She startled when she realised that somehow the blonde had crossed the room and was now standing in front of Hermione, her face maybe five centimetres away. Hermione could see every eye lash, every tiny little wrinkle around her eyes, and the slightly smudged dark red lipstick in the corner of her mouth. She saw that the shade of blue of Narcissa's eyes was the colours of the sky and the ocean combined.

Hermione's heart thundered in her chest and she staggered backwards into the hall. "You had no right…"

Narcissa followed, the beginnings of a devious smile tugging at her lips. "If you truly did not wish for me to see that then you would have kept your guard up, Miss Granger." She searched Hermione's face. "I did not realise she haunted you that much."

"You weren't the one attacked by a deranged lunatic with a knife," Hermione sneered. "Come talk to me again once you have even the slightest idea of what happened."

"I do know what happened. I was there."

"You're as sick as she was!"

"And you ask yourself how she came to be that way," Narcissa answered. "You ask yourself every day what you could have done different, if things had been different… would she not have been what she was? Would you not be standing here covered in scars that will never heal talking to someone you know you should not be talking to? Your friends would scold you if they knew you were here."

Hermione's voice shook as she spoke. "The dreams… every night…" She didn't want to cry but the tears stung behind her eyes. She didn't want Narcissa to see. She didn't want anyone to see, anyone to know. "I… I don't know how to move on…. I…."

Narcissa's features softened when she saw the distress in Hermione's eyes. She raised her hands, palms facing Hermione, as if to silently surrender herself and she took a careful step forward. "Ok," she said, the sharpness gone from her voice. "Let's start this again. Let's forget the last half an hour of our lives and go back to the moment you knocked on my door."

"You can't forget what you saw inside my head," Hermione objected. A lone tear fell from her eye down her cheek.

Narcissa shook her head. "No, I cannot. But Hermione…" She paused for a moment as if to wait to see if Hermione would object to being called by her first name. When no objection came, she carried on. "What I saw… that pain…" She lowered her hands down by her side and sighed. "There isn't much we can change about the war and the things that were done. But if we can ease some of the pain…"

Hermione lifted her head so she could look into Narcissa's eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I will help you. But I do not understand what it is you need so maybe you need to focus on that first. But once you do…" Narcissa looked at the suddenly fragile looking woman in front of her. "Come back to me and I will help you."

"I… I should go," Hermione stammered and turned around. Without waiting for Narcissa to say anything else she rushed back down the corridor and opened the front door. She fled out into the London afternoon sunshine and by the time Narcissa reached the door too, Hermione was gone. The last thing Narcissa saw was the metal gate falling into its lock.

Hermione didn't think to Disapparate. She just ran, her feet slamming against the pavement as she sprinted down the road. She managed to avoid an elderly couple walking towards her and it wasn't until she felt like her lungs were about to be ripped from her chest that she finally slowed down. sweat dripped down her forehead and she nervously looked over her shoulder, almost expecting to see Narcissa following her. For a moment her body relived being on the run for most of the year leading up to Voldemort's downfall. The adrenaline coursed through her veins.

When she realised no one was following, Hermione's breathing began to slow down and she looked around. She had no idea where she was. She'd just started running, turned a corner and kept going. Either side of the street was lined with fancy looking terraced houses with big bay shaped windows. A normal London residential street. It was hard to imagine that just moment ago she had been sitting in the house of another witch. These streets had never seen magic, she suspected.

Hermione made sure she was alone before turning on the spot. Moments later she reappeared in the alley not far from her home and she quickly walked into the building. Closing and locking the door behind her, she sighed in relief. She walked straight to the bedroom and the tiredness in her body took over, followed by the rush and the panic. By now she was well familiar with the signs of panic and anxiety attacks and Hermione didn't have the strength to fight the feeling that was dragging her down into the darkness.

Tears burnt their down her cheeks as she sobbed uncontrollably. Each breath felt like acid in her lungs and she struggled for air. Her head was spinning and she felt lightheaded. The tension in her body as it fought against something invisible around her caused her muscles to clench and her back and shoulders seized. The turmoil of thoughts inside her head, the inability to even focus on the smallest thing to just have something to hold on… Hermione felt herself slipping away. She was losing grab and with a strangled cry she fell down onto the bed, curled up, her hands digging into the sheets, and she cried.

The anxiety and the panic attacks had started in the weeks after the war ended. It wasn't just the nightmares that made life hard; the constant state of anxiety, the endless sense of panic and overwhelming feeling of losing control were making it even worse. There were days where she barely managed to get out of the house because her anxiety kept her trapped between the four walls of her bedroom and a prisoner inside her own head.

Hermione didn't remember going to sleep. Somewhere during the paralysing anxiety attack, she succumbed to the darkness and when she woke up, her bedroom was covered in darkness and the numbers on her alarm clock said 01.03am. She sat up. Her clothes clung to her body and the aching of her muscles and the heavy feeling in her head reminded her of in what state she had gone to sleep.

Hermione got up off the bed and walked to the bathroom without switching on the light in the bedroom. When she switched on the bathroom light and turned to look at her own reflection, she could see the remnants of anxiety still etched across her face. Her skin looked ashen and there were dark circles around her eyes and red marks on her cheeks. She peeled off her clothes, left them in a discarded pile on the floor next to the laundry basket, and stepped into the shower.

The hot water felt somewhat soothing and she leaned back with her eyes closed, letting the warm drops rain down on her face. She stayed in the shower until the water began to run cold and her skin was red and raw. Then she stepped out, wrapped herself in a towel, dried her hair with another towel and walked back into the bedroom. In the darkness she found her pyjamas, put them on and she crawled into bed in a dazed state. When she lay down she grew aware of the rapid pounding of her heart and she rolled onto her side. As she closed her eyes, Hermione startled. The first thing she saw was Narcissa.

"No," she whispered to the emptiness of her bedroom. "Not her too. Please, not her too."

She closed her eyes again but Narcissa's face was back. The longer she looked, the more she began to change. First her eyes darkened until they were the shade of charcoal. Then her hair grew darker too and the soft whispering voice that promised Hermione she would help her changed into the almost demonic cackle of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione didn't sleep that night.

~()~

Harry was waiting for Hermione in the Atrium the next morning and when she saw the look on his face, she knew something was up.

"What's going on?" she asked when she reached him. She used her wand to levitate her coffee as she tried to sift through some files in her hand and then plucked the cup out of the air once she found what she was looking for.

"Remember what I said the other day about Kingsley maybe offering Malfoy a job?"

Hermione nodded.

"He's only bloody well gone and done it."

"What?" Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Whose done what?"

"Kingsley. He actually offered Malfoy a job. Kingsley called me in for a meeting early this morning and told me. Apparently Lucius hasn't been giving all the information he supposedly had. Well, not according to his son anyway. So now Kingsley has recruited Draco Malfoy into the task force that is searching for Death Eaters abroad."

"Oh shit," Hermione sighed.

"Yeah, I'll say," Harry groaned but he didn't realise Hermione's swearing was not connected to what he had just told her.

Over Harry's shoulder Hermione watched as Draco Malfoy stepped out of one of the fire places closest to them. Dressed in a black tailored and no doubt expensive suit and his pale blonde hair neatly combed, Draco looked so much older than the last time Hermione had seen him. But it wasn't his tired and aged looking figure she was drawn to but that of the woman behind him. Narcissa Malfoy followed her son out of the fireplace and linked her arm through Draco's. As if she sensed Hermione looking at her, blue eyes drifted across the big open space until they found Hermione's.

Harry turned around when he noticed Hermione staring and spotted Draco too. The two Malfoys approached and Hermione could see Harry's demeanour change. Harry was aware he owed his life to Narcissa but he struggled to forgive Draco for what he had done during the war. The two former enemies looked at each other.

"Potter," Malfoy said. His voice was flat and Hermione noticed his eyes had lost their shine. He seemed to briefly consider extending his hand but when he sensed Harry wouldn't accept it, he changed his mind.

Harry gave a stiff nod. "Malfoy."

Narcissa's had remained fixed on Hermione. "Miss Granger."

Hermione didn't answer, merely swallowed and then turned away. She waited till Malfoy and his mother were gone and then she looked back at Harry. "What do you think Kingsley is playing at?"

"I don't know but I'm not sure I like it. I haven't even told Ron yet."

Hermione chuckled. "Rather you than me."

"If you feel the Earth shake in about half an hour or so, you know he exploded." Harry looked at Hermione a little closer. "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah," Hermione lied, pretending not to feel the way her chest tightened and her heart pounded. "Think I'm getting a cold or something but I live." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You think that with Draco now working here, he'll get invited to the Celebration?"

"He'd be lynched before he even made it to the Great Hall," Harry sighed. He let his eyes wander around the Atrium. "Sometimes it is so hard to believe it has really been a year. There are days where it feels like yesterday we walked in here looking for the locket. Sometimes I forget just how much time has passed but when I look at the faces of those around us… Merlin, sometimes I just do not understand."

"I know what you mean," Hermione quietly admitted. "A whole year has past and somehow it still feels like I have been standing still for all of it. Like everyone else has someone moved on but I'm still right there…" Harry turned to look at her and their eyes met. "In the ruins of Hogwarts, knowing the war is over but no idea of what that new dawn even looks like. And now it's been a year… It just doesn't feel like it."

"Do you think it ever will?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked around. "I don't know," she admitted. "And part of me doesn't want to know either."

She excused herself after that, saying she had work to do, and she made her way up to her office. Closing the door behind her, Hermione flicked her wand and the stash of papers in her hand landed neatly on her desk. She closed her eyes. Somehow the anniversary of the end of the war was proving to be a bigger thing than she had realised and every passing day brought with it new triggers.

She was about to walk across her office to sit down when there was an unexpected knock on her door. She spun around and opened the door immediately. Startled, she looked up into the eyes of Narcissa Malfoy and Hermione staggered backwards into her office.

"I'm going to take that as an invite," Narcissa softly said and stepped into Hermione's office too. The door closed behind her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Do you really need to ask that after the way you left my house yesterday?" Narcissa asked, sounding a little offended. "Hermione, I came to see if you were alright."

"I'm fine," Hermione answered. "So you can go now."

Narcissa seemed taken aback. "I don't know whether to be more offended that you're lying to me or because you want me to believe that lie." Blue eyes flickered with concern. "I know you're not fine."

"No, you're right. I'm not. But there is nothing you can do about it so you may as well just leave!" Hermione sneered, her voice smothered by tears.

"Ok," Narcissa admitted defeat and she opened the door. "But when you're ready not to let the demons win, you know where I am."


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione spent the remainder of the day after Narcissa's unexpected visit pretending that it had not happened but by the time the day was coming to an end, she was restless, agitated and pacing around her office with unexplainable adrenaline pulsating through her veins. Her mind was spinning and she felt as if the walls were closing in on her and the words the blonde witch has said were echoing through her head.

She jumped when there was a knock on her door and Harry let himself in without waiting for her to answer. He seemed surprised to find Hermione not at her desk and he looked around the office for a moment before finding his friend standing near one of the walls. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he observed Hermione's agitated appearance. "Hermione, is everything alright?"

There was hesitation in his voice. Years of friendship with Hermione had shown him that when she was emotional, she could sometimes lash out verbally even if she did not mean it.

"Fine," Hermione lied through gritted teeth and wallowed. Harry didn't need to know wat had happened here earlier that morning. She looked at him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "The building didn't explode so I take it Ron handled Malfoy working for the Ministry better than expected?"

"I told him outside," Harry said, a hint of a smile on his face. "It seemed safer."

"How did it go?"

"How do you think?"

"He wants to kill him?"

"Crucio the living daylights out of him, more like," Harry agreed. He looked at Hermione for another moment. "But Ron wanting to kill Malfoy is not why I'm here."

"Then what?"

"I realised I needed to give you this," he said and reached into the inner pocket of his robe and pulled out a smalls scroll of parchment. "I was on my way over here this morning after our talk but when I got here…" He paused and seemed to weigh up whether to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue. "Hermione, what was Narcissa Malfoy doing in your office this morning?"

Hermione's heart sank and she shook her head. "What?"

"I watched her leave your office." Harry's eyes remained fixed on Hermione. "In fact, I watched her go in too. I waited to make sure everything was alright. What was she doing here?"

Hermione couldn't think of a reason or an excuse fast enough and so she said nothing. She knew her silence would only provoke more questions but after a day tormented by thoughts and questions of her own and what had happened with Narcissa the previous day, she didn't have the strength to fight against Harry's curiosity.

"What did she want, Hermione?" Harry insisted. There was a sharp edginess to his voice Hermione couldn't handle.

It reminded her of the times when they were searching for the Horcruxes and Harry's lack of sleep and frustration would start to show. It was only now that she understood that some of that anger had been caused by the fragment of Voldemort living inside Harry but even now, a year later, some of that anger had not yet faded.

"She asked about Malfoy working here and any implications it could have," Hermione lied. She wasn't sure if it even made any sense but she couldn't tell Harry the real reason Narcissa had been here. He would never understand her desire for closure or the demons in her head.

Harry had fought his own demons over the years, tormented by the faint memory of his parents being murdered, and the journey that led him on. And yet he had never been one to seek answers the way Hermione needed them. She had seen the hatred and the loathing in his eyes, had witnessed it as she stood next to him and she knew he would never be able to see it the way she saw it; the way she needed to see it.

"I didn't know she was coming and I sent her away."

Harry didn't seem too sure about her answer, Hermione could tell. "You know you can put up spells to keep people out of your office, right? You're a witch, Hermione. You don't have to let anyone in you don't want to."

"I wasn't exactly expecting her to be walking through my door now was I?" Hermione bit back. "I put up spells to stop people from sending stupid random memos. I wasn't aware I needed spells to ban Narcissa Malfoy from knocking on my door but thank you for the reminder. Maybe I'll get a Sneakoscope or a Foe Glass just for good measure!"

Harry decided not to argue and instead he just nodded. "There is something else…"

"What?" Hermione sounded exasperated.

Harry pointed at the letter on her desk. "You didn't open it, did you?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder at her desk. The letter had arrived just before lunch, delivered by a big white owl with intense yellow eyes. The bird reminded Hermione of Harry's former owl Hedwig and she'd spent a little while watching it before taking the letter from its beak and tossing it on her desk. It had been partially hidden under paperwork and a glass of water until a little while ago when she had tidied up the mess in anticipation of going home. It was only now that Hermione looked at the handwriting long enough to recognise who had sent the letter; Molly Weasley.

Hermione guiltily looked at Harry, a heavy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. "What is it?"

"Dinner invitation for tonight at the Burrow."

Realising that the letter did not in fact carry bad news or was connected to the anniversary. Hermione sighed and she grabbed the envelope of her desk, tore it open and read it. When she was finished she looked back up at Harry, realising her initial optimism had been somewhat misplaced. "Why?"

"She says so in the letter," Harry said. "She wants everyone together before the Celebration."

"But why?" Hermione couldn't think of anything worse than sit around a table with everyone else and talk about the upcoming event. If it had been dinner that was not connected to this, like the handful of occasions there had been over the last twelve months, she would have been delighted. She didn't see anywhere near as much of Molly Weasley as she liked. But the thought of being surrounded by all those damaged, sad souls who were all still trying to move on in their own ways…

"Maybe to take the edge off before the big Celebration at Hogwarts?" Harry suggested. "Or maybe because she wants to bring back the family in a move personal setting. A chance to remember our own family. Tonks, Lupin, Mad Eye…" He paused. "Fred."

"Yeah," Hermione said as she looked back down at the letter in her hand. "Maybe."

"So you'll be there?"

"You'd more than likely be mourning the anniversary of my death this time next year if I don't," Hermione groaned. "I'll be there."

"Are you going home first or do you want to travel up through the Floo with Ginny and me?"

"I'm going home first. I need to have a shower. Today has been… intense."

"Ok," Harry said and started for the door. "I'll see you tonight then."

~()~

Hermione went home and showered and then spent twenty minutes standing in front of her wardrobe deciding what to ear. Eventually deciding on just simple jeans, some black ballet pumps and salmon coloured long sleeved shirt with a round neckline, she brushed her damp curls and bound them together in a ponytail. Staring at her own reflection in the mirror, she tried to find the strength inside herself to face what she knew tonight would inevitably become.

Just before seven o'clock she Apparated just outsider the Burrow's front door and she watched through the kitchen window as shadows moved behind the glass. The Weasley home felt warm and inviting as always and Hermione smiled when she saw the pile of mismatched Wellington boots by the front door. Some things never changed.

She went to knock the door but it swung open, revealing Arthur Weasley. His face lit up when he saw her. "Hermione! I thought I could hear something." He looked over his shoulder. "Molly. Hermione is here!"

Hurried footsteps approached and Hermione didn't even have a chance to look at Molly before being wrapped up in the Weasley matriarch's embrace. For a moment Hermione stiffened but then she relaxed into the arms of the woman who, on a few dark nights after the war, had taken the place of her own mother when she needed someone to talk to. When Molly let go of her, Hermione could see the genuine happiness in her eyes and she instantly felt guilty for having not wanted to come tonight.

"Oh Hermione it is so good to see you, dear," Molly beamed.

"It's good to see you too, Mrs Weasley."

Hermione didn't miss the way Molly gave her a once over. It was in the red haired woman's nature to check any of the children – because she still saw each of them as such – and reassure herself they weren't all dying or malnourished. She seemed satisfied Hermione was looking well enough, and if she wasn't then she was doing a good job hiding it, and Molly took Hermione's hand to lead her into the house.

The kitchen was full of people and voices and the smell of freshly cooked food made Hermione realise just how hungry she was. It had been months since she had last been at the Burrow but walking through the door and into the warmth of the house made it feel like it had been only been last week. Hermione's eyes subconsciously drifted to the large Weasley clock. All but one were pointing at "home". The arm with Fred's picture was permanently stuck on "lost."

Hermione managed to find a seat towards the right end of the table and only realised she had sat down next to Andromeda Tonks when the movement of dark curls in the corner of her eye startled her. Andromeda didn't seem to notice and Hermione watched for just a moment how the woman who looked so much like the one who had tormented her, smiled as she bounced her grandson on her knee before handing him over to Ginny.

"So I take it you heard Kingsley has offered Draco Malfoy a job at the Ministry?" Ron, who was seated a couple of chairs away from her to her left, asked his father and Arthur Weasley nodded.

"Yes," he answered as he picked up hi glass of Butterbeer. "It would seem times are changing."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Arthur slowly said. "The Anniversary is coming. People are moving on further and further with their lives. Even those who have suffered tremendous losses…" Hermione could see his eyes drift to the clock too. "There comes a moment in everyone's life where you have to choose to move forward or stand still forever and I think Kingsley is trying to get the world to move forward."

"I still think he's a snake," Ron countered.

"But he may be a valuable one," Harry interjected much to Hermione's surprise. "Maybe Draco joining the Ministry won't be so bad, Ron."

"What's next? Inviting him to the Anniversary?"

"Even those on the wrong side, suffered," Andromeda cut in and Hermione could hear the soft gasp go around the table. Out of all of them, Andromeda had suffered more than most. Death Eaters had killed her husband, her daughter and her son-in-law and their affiliation with the Dark Lord had cost her both her sisters. Her entire family except her grandson had been somehow lost to the dark side and yet here she softly claimed that even those who had been wrong had been hurt.

It made Hermione think back to what Narcissa had said when she stood in her living room, about needing to understand how Bellatrix had become what she was in order for her to find the answers she needed to be able to move on.

The conversation seemed to stall and Hermione leaned across the table towards Harry who was sitting across from her. "Hey," she said. "Two Australians came to see me earlier today."

"Australians?"

"They're looking for my parents," Hermione explained. "Apparently they were supposed to be in Perth or Melbourne but they're not there and no one can find them. They moved two days after the war ended."

"Do you think something happened to them?"

Hermione swallowed. "I don't know what to think. But why would they go missing just two days after the war ended? The plan always was to try and find them and bring them back once it was safe. I thought it would be easy but I couldn't find them so I asked Kingsley months ago if he could help. I didn't think he'd actually do anything because of everything else going on still but these two Australian wizards showed up this morning."

"If the locals are looking, it may be easier to trace them in the end," Harry suggested and Hermione had to agree. She'd struggled to search in Australia herself because she'd not been able to leave England and in the first few months after the war, communication between various wizarding communities, especially those further away, was hard and everyone was focused on rounding up Death Eaters and trials.

Molly Weasley approached the table with her wand, using it to keep two steaming hot pans in the air. She gently levitated them towards the table and then lowered them down. The smell was delicious and Hermione was relieved to be finally eating something. After everyone had filled up their plates and their glasses, Harry cleared his throat and stood up. He held his glass and looked around the table.

"We spent many nights here during the war. Many nights were we tried to find strength and hope to keep going. I know many of you spent even more nights here after Hermione, Ron and I were gone. Within these walls, the spirit and the strength to keep fighting continued to rise and now, almost a year later, the spirts and the strength of those we lost along the way are here with us tonight, sitting at this table the way they used to." He swallowed. "Many years ago, Albus Dumbledore said that darkness can be found even in the darkest of places if one only remembers to turn on the light. We kept that light burning no matter how dark the nights became and we will keep it burning to remember those we loved." He raised his glass into the air. "To family!"

"To family!" A dozen or so more voices answered in unison.

Dinner turned into a trip down memory lane as people began sharing their favourite memories of some of those who had been lost. Harry mentioned how Fred and George had introduced him to the Marauders Map and Ron remembered fondly how Fred had once taught him how to fly a broom, before using his wand to make it vanish so Ron fell down three feet on his ass. George finished off the stories about Fred about using the fireworks on Umbridge before flying out of Hogwarts on their brooms.

As more and more stories came to pass, Hermione found herself drifting out, only hearing half of what was said. She remembered all these things too but they seemed to have gotten lost in the back of her mind, overpowered by the dark shadows and painful memories that had forced their way to the front. Memories of Christmas Dinner at the Burrow with everyone had been replaced by Bellatrix's demonic cackle and the searing pain in her arm. Memories of snow at Hogwarts had somehow been tarnished because all she could seem to remember was Bellatrix's face. She was everywhere, in every memory, like a shadow that spread and took every bit of happiness she had ever known in her life.

It was around ten when most people started to leave and in the coming and goings of people, Hermione found hersekf standing next to Ron. She could feel him looking at her but did her best not to meet his eye. She didn't need to look at him to ohysically be able to feel the seething anger radiating from him. Some of it was Malfoy, she knew. Some of it was still him being angry becayse she had asked him to just be her friend.

Unable to take the piercing stares any longer, Hermione turned to look at him. "Will you please stop looking at me like that? Youre going to burn a hole in my shirt!"

Ron seemed a little stunned. "What do you mean?"

"I see even now you still can't tell what it is you're doing," Hermione sighed. She shook her head. "Listen, I'm sorry that things ended the way they did between us but for Merlin's sake, can you please stop whining about it to Harry or send him into my office to talk about it?"

"I'm worried about you!" Ron protested.

"No, Harry is worried about me. You're just angry because I decided this relationship wasn't for me."

"I know what I saw Hermione. I saw you have the nightmares, I heard you say her name. I know what goes on inside your head."

"You have no idea what goes on inside my head," Hermione hissed and took a step closer to him. "And you know why? Because it wasn't you pinned to the floor with a Death Eater on top of you carving obscenities in your arm after letting you experience the worst kind of pain you have ever felt through the Cruciatus Curse." She squared her jaw and her brown eyes pierced into his. "Don't you dare tell me you know what's going on inside my head, Ronald Weasley. You should thank God that it's not happening inside yours."

"Hey, settle down," Harry interrupted. "Before everyone else notices."

"Don't worry," Hermione sighed and looked at Harry. "I'm going home."

She broke away from her two friends to find Molly so she could thank her for the dinner invite and Harry and Ron watched her from across the room. Ron shook his head.

"I'm telling you, something's going on within her."

"And you're probably right but this time of year, there's something going on with all of us," Harry agreed. "Just leave her alone, mate. If she wants to come back she will."

Hermione kissed Molly on her cheek after thanking her for dinner and happily accepted another hug before opening the front door. It was dark outside and a cool gust of wind pulled ay her hair. A late night April shower had drenched the ground and the flowers in water and there was still some drizzle in the air. Hermione looked up at the sky. The stars and the moon went hidden behind thick grey clouds. The rain wasn't over yet, it seemed.

She turned on the spot before closing her eyes and when she reopened them, she found herself standing not in the alley not far from her apartment but in a street in the middle of London. A black cab drove by but didn't seem to notice her. The streets were empty. The rain had forced everyone inside. Most of the windows of the houses aligning the street were dark and the pavement seemed to glisten in the yellow glow of the street lights. Hermione began to walk and she rounded a corner just a few moments later.

When she reached the black metal gate that led to Narcissa Malfoy's home, Hermione hesitated. The house was dark and it was late. She didn't quite know what had driven her to come here instead of going home tonight nut somehow standing here gave her a sense of peace and her hand clenched itself around one of the bars on the gate, almost as if it was her one and only lifeline.

"Hermione?"

Hermione hadn't noticed Narcissa opening the front door nor had she heard or seen the blonde woman walk down the path. Now Narcissa stood in front of Hermione, concern etched across her face and her eyes curiously searched Hermione's face. It softly started to rain again and the flowers in the pots looked far less colourful than they had done the previous day.

"What are you doing here?" Narcissa asked. Drops of rain slid down her face as strands of blonde hair stuck of her cheeks. If she was bothered by it, she did not show it.

"I… I don't know," Hermione stammered and slowly her hand slid away from the gate. "I'm… I'm sorry. I should go..."

Narcissa reached through the gate and took Hermione's wrist. The touch was gentle and not meant to scare or harm her. The soft brush of her fingers along Hermione's skin was enough to make the young witch freeze and Narcissa, realising what her touch could provoke, pulled back her hand in apology and sadness filled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't think…"

Hermione didn't answer. She stood almost lost on the sidewalk in front of Narcissa's house as the rain continued to pour and in the distance the ominous sound of thunder began to fill the London sky.

"Please," Narcissa softly urged and Hermione turned to look at her. Then her eyes slowly drifted to the house behind Narcissa, focusing on the faint glow of candlelight she could see in the open doorway. A small beacon of light in a world of darkness, or so it seemed.

"You came here for a reason," Narcissa whispered and the gate creaked a little as she opened it before extending her hand to lead Hermione up the path. Hermione silently placed her hand in Narcissa's and allowed the blonde witch to guide her into the house. The door closed behind them and the darkness suddenly seemed to have been shut out.

Once inside, Narcissa softly traced Hermione's clothes with the tip of her wand and Hermione could feel them dry against her skin. They felt soft and warm and when Narcissa was finished, she looked at the forlorn young woman standing in the candle lit hallway.

"Come," she said and Hermione hesitated when she realised Narcissa was about to lead her up the stairs. Narcissa sensed her apprehension and she smiled a little. "Trust me," she smiled and the truth of those words reached all the way up into her eyes and Hermione felt the last sense of fear slip away as she began to climb the stairs.

They reached the landing but Hermione didn't let herself take in much of her surroundings. Narcissa opened one of the doors and brought Hermione into a bedroom. Leaving Hermione standing beside the bed, Narcissa slowly began backing out of the room but just before leaving, she said, "Sleep."

Hermione didn't wait for the door to close. She crawled on the bed still fully clothed and sank down into the soft pillows and thick, comfortable mattress. Outside, the rain now violently lashed against the window and the thunder rolled but inside, there seemed to be none of nature's violence. She rolled onto her side, her back to the window and her face to the door, and her body seemed to give into the tiredness that she felt down to her bones and slowly, her heavy eyes fell shut.

The nightmares didn't haunt her that night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took even longer than the last one. Not sure I have an excuse other than moving to the other side of the world and depression but whatever... I have decided to give this another go and may actually have some idea where to take this story direction wise.. If ya'll are still here, enjoy!

When Hermione woke the next morning her brain needed a few seconds to remember where she was. The memories from the previous night slowly came back and she remembered the pouring rain and the argument with Harry and Ron. She recalled walking the streets of London, eventually leading her to Narcissa's house. She looked around, realising she was in the bed the blonde witch had led her to the previous night and, in a mixture of shock and horror, Hermione let herself slide off the covers and onto the ground.

Her body didn't protest against getting up, unlike other mornings. Her mind felt clearer and brighter than it had done for a long time and as she reached for the door knob, Hermione began to realise that this was the first time she had slept through the night in a very long time. The night had not been haunted by dreams or shadows and she had woken up without Bellatrix's presence inside her head.

She hesitated when she reached the landing before descending down the stairs. She remembered Narcissa leading her up these stairs the previous night and when she reached the hallway, Hermione looked around for the blonde woman. The living room was empty and she didn't hear any noises coming from the kitchen. She waited, almost longing for a break in the silence, the echo of footsteps, but when nothing happened, Hermione reached for the door knob and opened the door.

The morning sun had only just begun to rise, painting the skies of London in golden shades of yellow and amber, and Hermione stepped out into the daylight. The door closed behind her with a soft click and it left her feeling hollow. She walked down the path to the gate and mere moments after leaving the house behind her, she turned on the spot and Disapparated, reappearing not too far from her own front door.

She quickly showered and got changed ready for work. All the while, the thought she had spent the night at Narcissa's house followed her around and when she looked at her own reflection in the mirror, Hermione noticed how for the first time in what felt like forever, the dark circles under her eyes seemed a little less deep. She brushed her hair before tying it into a knot in the back of her neck, applied a small amount of lipstick and found her work shoes at the end of the bed.

Having the choice between the Floo Network and Muggle transportation, Hermione chose to take the tube that morning. Something about the hot, overcrowded trains filled with men and women in suits and pencil skirts, most of them listening to music on their headphones or staring absentmindedly out of the window into the darkness seemed appealing this morning. In that crowd she could blend in and disappear; just be nobody for a little while.

The tube ride was exactly as she had expected; crowded and warm. There were no spaces to sit so she found herself squashed between two men in expensive suits with brief cases and a woman who smelt like she had poured her entire bottle of perfume over herself that morning. The buzz of the people, the flashing lights that flickered in the darkened window as the train sped down the tunnel… it all helped her to try and forget what had happened the previous night.

As soon as she reached the platform though, Hermione couldn't forget. She remembered Narcissa, she remembered her touch and she remembered the comfort and the safety of the house. With her mind still spinning, she climbed the stairs leading to street level and she ordered herself a coffee from the coffee shop around the corner before continuing her walk to the Ministry just a few streets away. Upon entering the Atrium she felt almost overwhelmed by the intense presence of magic and something inside of her desperately wanted to escape back into the Muggle world beyond the Ministry's walls.

She made her way to the office and breathed a sigh of relief upon closing the door behind her. She had barely reached her desk when there was a knock on the door. It startled her so much, she almost dropped her coffee as she spun around.

"Yes?"

The door opened and Harry walked in. He looked concerned and Hermione braced herself for the inevitable questions that would follow. They had come a long way since the days at Hogwarts where Harry didn't seem to notice what was happening around him all that much. The War had changed him, had changed them all, forcing them to grow up a lot faster than they'd wanted and it had resulted in Harry sometimes wanting to be an even bigger protector than he had been before the war.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Hermione clenched her jaw. She really didn't want to talk to Harry.

Harry, despite sensing his friend didn't want to talk, didn't let go so easily and his green eyes, those damn green eyes Hermione had read so many articles about over the years, fixed on her. "I came by to check on you last night. Waited for half an hour. You weren't home."

Feeling a little irritated as well as offended, Hermione circled her desk and sat down. She placed her hands on the wooden surface, laced her fingers and looked up at Harry with a piercing stare. "So now you're checking up on me too?"

Harry realised his mistake immediately. "You know that's not what I meant but after what Ron said…"

"Ronald Weasley says a lot of stupid things. If you are going to check up on me every time he does, you'll be spending an awful lot of time in my office," Hermione sighed. She shook her head and went to pick up her coffee cup but her hand stilled in mid-air.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Harry pressed.

"I said I'm fine. I didn't feel like going home last night so I went for a walk and got myself a coffee from one of those late night places. Sometimes I…Sometimes I just don't feel like going home."

She studied Harry for a few more seconds when he didn't answer immediately and her eyes narrowed a little. "Did you hang around outside my office waiting for me to get here?"

Harry took a step closer to the desk and he briefly held Hermione's gaze. "I was walking right behind you. But you seemed so distracted you didn't even notice."

Hermione looked down at the papers on her desk, unable to look at Harry any longer, afraid of what he might see. "This time of year…"

"I know," Harry answered. It was one thing they all shared. The memories haunted all of them. "You know that if you ever wanna talk…"

Hermione could tell he was staring at her arm. Despite it being covered up, they both knew what was there. She had never told Harry and Ron too much of what had really happened between her and Bellatrix that day. They had filled in the blanks for themselves after having heard her screams and seeing the scars but Hermione had never told them the real truth. No doubt what Ron and Harry had in their minds was terrible but she knew it would never even come close to the actual truth.

Harry sensed Hermione wasn't going to say anything else and he started for the door, opening it before saying, "I'll see you later."

He was about to step outside when the arrival of another visitor surprised him. He froze, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected guest, and then turned around to look at Hermione as if to check she really wanted him to leave. Hermione looked past her friend and shivered when she saw Narcissa standing in the open doorway. Dressed in simple black slacks and a long sleeved burgundy blouse finished off with just a simple pair of black robes, she looked the perfect combination of witch and Muggle imaginable.

"I'm sorry, I can come back later," Narcissa excused herself upon realising Harry's presence.

"No wait," Hermione quickly called out, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Please, come in." She then looked at Harry and added, "It's ok, Harry."

He seemed unsure and hovered for a few more seconds after Narcissa filed past hum into Hermione's office before reluctantly closing the door. Hermione silently placed a spell upon the door so Harry couldn't listen. He was her friend and she didn't want to think he would be so impolite and rude as to spy on her but she also knew how he felt about the Malfoys so she wasn't going to take any chances. Especially after what happened yesterday.

"I was worried," Narcissa said before Hermione even had a chance to ask why she was here. Feeling the by now somewhat familiar presence of the older woman's mind inside her own, Hermione didn't fight. It no longer felt as cold as it had done the first time Narcissa had invaded her mind. In fact, now it felt almost soothing.

"I came to check on you this morning and found you were gone," Narcissa continued as she reached Hermione's desk. She placed one hand on the smooth wooden surface, finger tips pointing at Hermione. Blue eyes searched the younger woman's face. "Why did you leave?"

"I had to go to work," Hermione muttered. She swallowed and couldn't bring herself to meet Narcissa's gaze and she focused on trying to close off the parts of her mind she didn't want Narcissa to see. She could sense the blonde witch retreating.

"I… I couldn't stay."

"Did you sleep well?" Narcissa inquired, never taking her eyes off Hermione, even if the brunette wasn't looking at her.

"Yes," the young witch breathed. "Better than I have in a long time."

She didn't know why but the honesty came easily to her with Narcissa. She didn't even want to lie. She was tired of pretending she was doing better than she was, tired of pretending the nightmares weren't happening and the shadows didn't haunt her still. For the first time since the end of the war, in the presence of perhaps the most unlikely person, Hermione felt she could finally let the mask she was wearing slip a little and let someone see the brokenness hidden behind it.

Narcissa sensed the change and slowly walked around the desk, careful not to invade Hermione's personal space too quickly. Even as she approached slowly and waited before putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder, she felt the younger woman startle. This was what touch did to her, Narcissa realised. It had been a year and still Hermione involuntarily flinched. Her heart ached for the girl who had so much taken from her when she still had her whole life ahead of her.

"I know that the Anniversary is coming up. It haunts everyone, even me," Narcissa said softly. "For different reasons, obviously. And you came to my house last night because you needed shelter and Hermione, I will never ask you what it is you need shelter from. I have seen the darkness in your mind."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"I want you to come to me when the shadows grow too strong. Come to me when you can't sleep. A house is just made of four walls but it can be a safe place…" Narcissa said softly. "When you come back, you'll understand. She cannot hurt you there." She tightened her grip on Hermione's shoulder a little. "Do you hear me? She _cannot_ hurt you there."

Before Hermione had chance to say anything else, Narcissa stepped back. Moments later she was out of the door and Hermione was left in the silence of her office, trying to process what had happened.

The morning went by slowly and Hermione managed to get some work done after she had finally forced herself to focus. She was trying to prepare for a meeting with Kingsley and a handful of Aurors later that afternoon but the words on the parchment in front of her just kept moving around before her eyes and none of what she was supposed to read really sunk in.

It was after lunch time when the door to her office opened without someone having knocked. There was only one person who did that; one person who was allowed to. Not even Ron and Harry came in without knocking but Minerva McGonagall did. Hermione's face lit up when she saw the Hogwarts Headmistress in the doorway. McGonagall looked as regal as ever, in dark emerald robes and a beautiful black witch's hat. From behind her small round spectacles she looked at Hermione and smiled.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," she said with her all too familiar Scottish lilt.

"You know we don't use last names within these walls, Minerva," Hermione smiled as she stood up to shake the older witch's hat. "What brings you here? And through the door! I'm used to you stepping out of my fireplace unannounced!"

"Can't a teacher check in with one of her favourite former pupils?" Minerva answered as she sat down in one of the two chairs across from Hermione's desk. Hermione took the other seat next to the Headmistress. Sitting like this reminded her of her third year at Hogwarts where she and the Professor had sat by the fireplace in the Professor's office one night at the start of term. It was the night Minerva had explained the Time-Turner to Hermione. A lot had changed since then.

"I wanted to talk to you about the Celebration."

Hermione shook her head and raised her eyes to the ceiling "Not you as well?!"

Minerva frowned at Hermione's unusual outpour of annoyance. "What on Earth do you mean?"

"Harry and Ron and now…" Hermione began but then she saw the look on the Professor's face and realised that whatever she had come here to say had nothing to do with Harry and Ron.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "Harry and Ron and I have had some discussions and they're getting on my nerves."

Minerva couldn't suppress a little smile. "I can understand that." She leaned a little closer. "Hermione, I came because I wanted to talk to you about something." Her voice became softer and Hermione noticed how the dark green colour of the Professor's eyes seemed to almost match the colour of her robes. The war had aged Minerva McGonagall significantly but it had not killed her fighting spirit. She now led Hogwarts with the same pride and devotion Albus Dumbledore had done.

"It'll come as no surprise to you that all eyes will probably be on Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and yourself," Minerva began. "And on their families." She paused. "Hermione, it hasn't passed me by that you and Mr Weasley are no longer…" She didn't need to finish that sentence for Hermione to understand what she meant. "And Mr Potter is obviously dating Miss Weasley so they will all be sitting together as a family. I just… I wanted you to know that since Kingsley will be the one mostly leading the Celebration, if you needed someone to sit with you, I'd be honoured."

Hermione felt the tears sting behind her eyes and she swallowed hard to keep them away. "I… I don't know what to say." The fact she was the only one without family hadn't even crossed her mind until this moment and the heavy feeling of emptiness, the realisation she had nothing, overwhelmed her. "Minerva, I…"

"I don't need you to answer right now. I don't even need you to answer at all. But if at any point you feel like you may want someone to sit beside you…" Minerva put a hand on Hermione's knee. "I know they're still looking for your parents. Kingsley informed me the other day after your meeting."

"I don't know what happened," Hermione sighed, a hint of despair carrying through in her voice. "The spell seemed solid. I changed their identities and sent them to Australia. They were supposed to stay put and now… No one knows where they are. How can they just disappear?"

"I don't know, my lovely," Minerva replied softly. "I just know you were trying to protect them and when you find them and this whole thing will be put right, that'll be the only thing that matters." She then leant back in her chair, adjusted her glasses. "So, what's going on with Mr Potter and Mr Weasley? Do I need to pay them a visit?"

"It's nothing, Minerva. The whole upcoming Celebration is putting everyone on edge and it has brought back a few things that I thought were finished but clearly weren't. And you know Harry and Ron…"

"Stubborn and not exactly level headed when it comes to emotions?" Minerva grinned and Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry things didn't work out with you and Ron, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't be, please. Some things aren't meant to last. Some of them aren't even meant to happen and I think Ron and I were one of those things."

They sat and talked for a little while longer until a little blue envelope wriggled its way under the door, whizzed across the room and landed in Hermione's lap. She picked it up, opened it and scanned the couple of handwritten lines. She recognised Kinsley's handwriting immediately and turned to Minerva. "I'm sorry, Minerva. I forgot I have a meeting with Kingsley."

"Now?" Minerva asked, arching an eyebrow in amusement as she stood up an readjusted her hat and cloak. "So you're already late. Can't hurt to add five extra minutes to say goodbye to an old friend."

Hermione walked Minerva to the fire place and removed the lid of a simple white porcelain jar that she kept next to a framed photo of her parents on the mantel piece. She and Minerva shared a look as the Professor took a handful of Floo Powder. They both knew that the jar had once stood in the window sill of her parents' living room. The house had been destroyed by Death Eaters and this was one of the few items Hermione had found in the ruins. The Muggle papers had called it a gas leak. The Wizarding world had known better.

Minerva stepped into the flames, raised her hand and dropped the powder into the fire. "Hogwarts!"

The flames roared and then she was gone.

Hermione dropped the note from Kingsley on her desk, secured some files in her drawer by uttering a couple of spells and then quickly rushed out of her office, slamming the door shut behind her.

The corridors were busy and she missed the first elevator because it was too crowded. When the second one came she got in, politely greeted the wizards and witches already inside and held on as the elevator sped off. A few moments later the doors opened and se stepped out, then almost ran down the corridor before reaching the meeting room. The door was closed and she knocked, her heart thundering in her chest. Kingsley called for her to enter and she quickly stepped into the room.

"I'm sorry, Prime Minister. Another meeting ran late. I got here as fast as I could."

Hermione closed the door and slipped into her seat. The remainder of the afternoon went by in a haze and by the time the meeting was finished, she couldn't remember what it was she had heard.

It was late; almost after seven. She'd not had lunch and her stomach was growling as she exited the Ministry and stepped out onto the streets if London. The sky was showing the first signs of darkness falling and Hermione ducked into the first sandwich shop she saw to get a coffee and a croissant. The croissant was stale and had probably been baked two days earlier but the coffee was half decent and at least she wasn't hungry anymore. Clutching the two items she continued her way towards the tube station to catch the train home.

She froze when she reached the steps leading down ti the station and after being bumped into by three rather irritated men in suits, she moved out of the way and looked up at the sky. Going home didn't feel right. There was only one place she could think of going and without really thinking, she dropped her croissant and coffee in the nearest rubbish bin, crossed the street and walked into the opposite direction of home.

Hermione reached Narcissa's home without even needing to think about how to get there. She opened the gate and walked up to the front door. Before she could knock however, the door opened, revealing Narcissa standing in the hallway. Hermione looked up, a little bemused.

"I heard you coming," Narcissa smiled a little. Hermione arched an eyebrow and Narcissa's smile widened. "Your thoughts are very loud."

"Sorry," Hermione muttered, feeling her cheeks suddenly burn red.

"Not to worry." Narcissa gestured for her to come in.

The door closed behind them and Hermione found herself standing in the by now familiar hallway. Narcissa headed towards the kitchen. Just before disappearing around the corner she called, "Would you like some tea?"

Hermione followed Narcissa into the kitchen. She hadn't seen this part of the house yet and was surprised to find it bright and airy. Two large windows overlooked a back garden and she noticed there was a back door too. The kitchen cupboards were white, which was a starj contrast to the living room. It almost felt like she had walked into a country cottage. Narcissa turned around, sensing Hermione's confusion.

"The original kitchen was a disgrace. The cupboards had been burnt black. My mother wasn't a great cook and unfortunately, neither were the elves employed by them. Or it was magic gone wrong, who knows. When I decided to make this my home, I changed the kitchen." She smiled as she picked up the kettle and filled it with water.

"I would have pegged you to be the kind of woman to use magic in their kitchen," Hermione observed, thinking back to the magic she had witnessed regularly when visiting the Burrow.

Narcissa shot Hermione a look as she put the kettle on. "I didn't get much chance to do things the Muggle way throughout my life. Sometimes I enjoy doing these things without magic."

Hermione watched as Narcissa took two mugs from one of the cupboards and then opened a jar. She gave it to Hermione to smell and she inhaled a herbal scent that was a mixture of something fruity and something woody. Narcissa put a tea bag in each cup and poured the hot water onto it when the kettle boiled.

"You haven't asked me why I'm here," Hermione asked when Narcissa seemed to have no intention of asking that particular question.

"I wasn't going to," Narcissa replied, her blue eyes briefly finding Hermione's. "I'm assuming it's the same reason as last night. You're a bit earlier so I thought some tea and conversation might be nice. Or…" She picked up the two mugs and jerked her head towards the door, indicating Hermione had to follow her. "You might enjoy this."

Hermione hadn't noticed the other door in the hallway and when it opened, it revealed a fairly large study with a tall bookcase covering most of the longest wall. The window sill had been transformed into a reading corner, complete with little bench and pillows. They were plain white and dark red, matching the dark shade of the walls and the hard wood flooring. Two leather arm chairs stood separated by a wooden coffee table on the other side of the room.

"Draco once told me you like to read," Narcissa said as she put the mug down in the window. She turned to look at Hermione, smiling at the look of wonder on the young woman's face. "I won't claim to have read most of these myself but I have read a few. I've managed to add a few Muggle classics but they're mostly books from the magical world. It's all yours."

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"Whenever you want to read, need a moment to relax… These books will be here," Narcissa said. She started for the door. "I'll leave you to it."

"Wait…" Hermione said as her eyes darted from the books to Narcissa and the seat in the window. "I'd love to read but really I'd like some company. Could you… could you stay?"

"Of course," Narcissa answered. "For as long as you like."

Hermione smiled her thanks before walking to the book case. She let her index finger trail along the spines of the rows and rows of books. Some of the covers were worn; she could feel old leather and rough paper against her finger tips. Others felt newer, like they had never been touched before.

It wasn't hard to imagine Narcissa reading these books. Hermione had guessed her to be a reader. It suited her somehow. As she turned to look at the blonde witch over her shoulder, she saw Narcissa had sat down in one of the arm chairs with a book she clearly had been reading and only looked up when she felt Hermione look at her.

To anyone else this set up would seem strange. Even to Hermione it felt strange. Just a couple of days ago she had stood in Narcissa's living room feeling violated because the older woman had read her mind. But then she had begged her to help her deal with the memories of Bellatrix and somehow it had led her back here last night and she had willingly let Narcissa read her mind.

Hermione remembered what Narcissa had said, about Bellatrix not being able to harm her within these walls, and Hermione wondered if maybe that's why she felt so calm and free here. Because she didn't carry the demons inside of her along with her.

No one would understand what having this little sanctuary meant. Even if it was strange, perhaps even wrong but this moment of peace meant everything.

Hermione picked a book with a title she had never heard of and carried it to the little reading corner in the window. She propped the pillows up behind her back, pulled up her knees and turned the first page. When she went to pick up her drink, she found Narcissa looking at her and she smiled.

They both read in a comfortable silence as outside the darkness began to fall.


End file.
